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@7iktor
VIKTOR IS THE BOMB. HE WILL ALWAYS BE THE BOMB.
ind. 𝙑𝙄𝙆𝙏𝙊𝙍 𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙂𝙍𝙀𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙎 from 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙐𝙈𝘽𝙍𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼 𝘼𝘾𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙈𝙔, show based, loosely seasons 1-4 + canon divergent. not comic friendly but some vague comic influences. defaults to time jump between seasons 3 & 4 but open to writing anywhere in canon, for the most part. powered by cj, she/her, 25+.
RULES 💥 ABOUT 💥 VERSES 💥 PROMPTS
currently moved to my multi @doomdays
sorry this didn't last long but i can't seem to keep this blog logged in on mobile so it's making my ability to be present on here even harder than it already was but i do still have muse for him (+ luther) and he'll be back on my multi @doomdays 💥 continuing threads over there, just @ me in your reply, thank you 🙏
sorry this didn't last long but i can't seem to keep this blog logged in on mobile so it's making my ability to be present on here even harder than it already was but i do still have muse for him (+ luther) and he'll be back on my multi @doomdays 💥 continuing threads over there, just @ me in your reply, thank you 🙏
he shouldn't have said that. the regret that follows is immediate and all-consuming, pouring from him like blood from a wound; visible in the hunch of will's shoulders, the way his mouth and eyes soften to a grimace. he's gotten too comfortable in the off-season, too grateful to be away from england and the club and a legacy hanging over his head like a sword; it's too easy to be himself here, where he isn't expected to be a holcomb (not that he's entirely certain what 'himself' means). of course there are people who recognize him even here - though that had surprised will; admittedly, he'd thought that canadians didn't care for sport beyond hockey - but it's always a brief thing, pictures and autographs and cookie-cutter dialogue of how delighted they are to meet him. back home, he wouldn't be able to sit in a pub; there'd always be a fan or a critic, eager to offer "insight"... which, all too often, is little more condemnation thinly veiled as banter, suggestions in a too-sharp tone.
as quickly as the regret reveals itself, however, it recedes; will shifts, schooling his expression, straightening his spine just as he'd been taught. it's the one advantage to his upbringing: his parents insisted he perfected his 'media face' as a child, gifting him with the capability to disguise his emotions before he'd been able to ride a bike.
despite that second nature, speech feels somewhat out of reach, words heavy and misshapen on his tongue, but he needs to say something, so will tries: “well, you ask some of the supporters, they'd say i'm not much good either,” and - it startles him, how calm and casual and even playful the words are. he hears himself snort a laugh and the surprise only deepens, and will only hopes it doesn't crack his mask. he exhales surreptitiously through his nose then allows himself a small gulp of his beer, moreso for the chance it allows him to gather himself than for any real desire for a drink.
“music's good, though. thought it'd be fun to be a musician once when i was a kid. even tried to learn a bit of guitar,” he continues, still conversational, flashing a warm smile as if it's a happy memory - as if his father didn't deem it too much of a distraction and demanded will give it away to a friend. the recollection of it is sharp and sudden, piercing like a knife. will clears his throat, and, offering a vague shrug, says, “don't go hoping to book me for entertainment, though. i could hardly hold the thing. bartending, though,” he nods, seizing the conversation with relief, grateful for the easygoing tone from viktor, and hoping quietly that he's managing to match it. “could probably do that. might just take you up on it when retirement comes 'round.”
they’d say the same thing about viktor, too, in his own attempted craft. but he’s come to accept that he was good—- he was just blocked, never reaching his full potential because he’d submitted to a life of simplicity, convinced he’d only ever be ordinary, because that’s what he was made to believe. helen never hesitated to remind him that he’d never be first chair, that he’d never be more than what he is— and, maybe worse, that he didn’t have the passion he assumed he did. it was just all he knew, all he thought he could do. it’s hard not to wonder if there’s a world in which he could still play music, in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s trapped in a time when he doesn’t know who he is or what he wants, but he’s not ready for it. at least, he’s not ready to pick up a violin again.
❝ perfection is overrated, ❞ he says casually, as if that’s something he’s taught himself over the years. they all grew up believing that they had to be perfect at everything, that there would be consequences if there weren’t— but viktor never had the same standards as the rest of his siblings. there was never any goal he could reach that was going to make his father look at him differently, but as a kid, he was desperate to believe it, anyway, even if he’d always amount to nothing. ❝ guess it only matters what you think, ❞ he points out, wishing he could tell him that it doesn’t matter if he’s no good, but he knows firsthand that if he's already made his mind up, then viktor won’t be able to change that. all he can do is offer his own support.
viktor raises a brow, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. ❝ guitar? yeah. i always thought guitar was cool. never really tried it myself, though. ❞ but he always imagined that he might be able to pick it up easily. he was just afraid to try, like he’d never reach the level of violin he needed if he let himself try something new — or that it might feel like giving up, and he couldn’t be perceived that way. ❝ maybe you could try piano instead, then. you don’t have to hold anything, ❞ he says, his attempt at a joke, his smile alluding to the fact he’s only teasing. ❝ — i’m always looking for new, local talent. we had some teenagers in here a couple weeks ago. they were . . . not great, ❞ he admits, letting out a soft chuckle. ❝ but it was pretty cool anyway. they were having fun. that’s all that matters. ❞ because it was important to viktor that if they weren’t getting the support they wanted from their hobbies, then at least he could be that for them, giving them the chance to feel like rockstars, even if they were just performing to a small bar crowd who didn’t really care.
❝ but i get it. offer to bartend still stands. only been a couple years for me, but i like it. it’s a pretty drastic change from what i’m used to, honestly, and— that’s the best part, i think, ❞ he encourages, hoping that if he needs something entirely different too, then he can find comfort in that.
what does viktor like to do on his days off in canada 🍁
I personally like the idea of viktor getting into sports 🥺 he really had no reason to before, and even once he was out on his own before, music was still his focus. but i think being in an entirely new environment, with the freedom to do whatever he wants and to finally figure out who he really is, what he enjoys, what his hobbies are beyond what he felt tied to before, he starts trying to broaden his horizons into things that he wouldn't have before.
not that he was really getting a lot of invites places before, but i do think that now that he's gaining more confidence + self-assurance in who he is and maybe who + what he wants to be, he tries to say yes to any invitation he receives. he makes friends at his bar and starts to join them for different events, particularly hockey games, and he discovers he really enjoys it. he likes rooting for a team like that, rather than... the kind of team he grew up with, given what it turned out to be and the misconceptions he had of it all that time.
he's also taking a different approach to music and trying to get more into a local music scene in different genres than he's spent most of his life with. there's a stage in his bar, and it was viktor's idea + his vision to have local music playing in his bar as often as possible. he goes to various shows to see + meet different bands and hopefully bring them into his bar eventually to, but in general, he finds that he really enjoys that type of music experience, as opposed to the symphony he's used to, and he has so much fun with it.
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY 4x01 | "The Unbearable Tragedy of Getting What You Want"
I know you're all too terminally emo to do what had to be done, so I made an executive decision and spiked your sake with the marigold. You had no right to do that, asshоlе!
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY 4x02 | "Jean & Gene"
@umare said, "so, do you? have all you need?"
back in canada, when he's standing in his bar looking at all he's built for himself in the last few years, it's easier to convince himself he has everything he needs. it's the first time in his entire life — aside from those few weeks he believed there was a future to be had with sissy and harlan — that he actually feels like he has something real, something stable, something for him. there was never space for him in this world before, either because he was nothing or because he was too much. now, he finally has the chance to just be him, no powers to keep him on edge and without the feeling like he's constantly getting lost in irrelevancy, drowned out by everyone around him who was always going to be more than him.
❝ kind of, like, an existential question, ❞ he points out, trying to deflect for a moment, because he wants to say yes. for once, he's the successful one, he's happy, he has a life— and he didn't have that before when he and his siblings first left the academy. he's choosing to be away from his family now in a way that no longer feels like being invisible, because he realized that might be the only way to figure out what he wants, but there's a part of him that longs to be more present in their lives. he's just not sure he's ready for that. ❝ i mean, can anyone really have everything? ❞ he misses his family: both the family he grew up with and the family he chose, but sissy and harlan are gone now, and viktor's spent the last few years accepting that. ❝ but i'd say i'm doing okay for myself. ❞ that much is at least true, anyway. ❝ i like it there. but— what about you? do you? i mean, what's it like, being a mom? ❞
BEN + VIKTOR ft. influenced style
@crypticide said, "maybe we're being punished for something our parents did."
❝ we're definitely being punished for him, ❞ he says dryly, because while it's so easy to drown in his own guilt over the things he's done with the capabilities he has, he's not allowing himself to be naive anymore. he can accept the things he's done while also understand that reginald is the one who put him in this situation to begin with — just as reginald is at fault for the way they grew up, despite how easy it was for viktor to resent his siblings for leaving him behind back then. ❝ i actually used to care about what he thought of me. like it mattered whether or not he saw me as a real person. ❞ he used to think that was the case: that viktor was just nothing compared to his siblings, but he knows now that he barely saw his siblings as real people, either— more like test subjects. ❝ guess that's the ironic part. he's the one punishing us. he's always the one punishing us. ❞
he shouldn't accept the drink, since he's already hovering dangerously near his self-imposed limit - but there's no performance tonight, and he's not expected to be sharp. it's not exactly easy to deny the drink when viktor's smiling like that at him, anyway; beau tells himself it's the alcohol making him flush, the heat trailing down his cheeks and throat as he swigs a mouthful all a side effect of the booze, but really, he knows it's the attention. he's no stranger to it, well-accustomed to fans buying him rounds and vying for conversation, their eagerness flattering, but always... overwhelming.
there's none of that hunger with viktor, no feeling like he needs to be wholly clear-headed, and maybe that's why beau takes a healthy swig, eyeing viktor as he cradles the glass, grateful for the coolness of it, how it numbs his palm where the condensation pools.
“y'know my brother's the one to talk to for all of that,” beau replies, a half-second's glance spared towards heath, perched at the opposing end of the bar and grinning with a man, the brush of their hands subtle, but not enough that beau, comfortably buzzing now, misses it. his brow arches briefly, gaze flitting back to viktor, before he leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “seems like he's busy, though, so i suppose you're stuck with me.” he's winking before he can stop himself, and then he's speaking before he can stop himself, still leaning into viktor, looking at him with bright eyes. “truth be told, i can't wait to play here again. 's a nice place, nice people. glad you been enjoyin' it.”
viktor’s eyes glance down to the other end of the bar, where one of his regulars seems to have been talking heath’s ear off for quite some time now. he grins, happy to see that beau and the rest of his crew seem comfortable enough in vik’s to stick around and make some friends, or whatever else they’ve found for themselves. he can’t ignore the pain in his chest he feels hearing beau talk about his brother, though, making a mental note to check in with at least one of his own soon, knowing there are surely plenty of voicemails from luther waiting for him. ❝ i guess so. but— ❞ he looks back to beau now, shrugging his shoulders, offering a small smirk. ❝ hey, i’m not complaining. ❞
he’s been here for a few years now, making a name for himself, crafting his own business, getting used to actually having a life that isn’t defined by outside forces or the cage that he grew up in. it’s still there, weighing on his shoulders, but the burden feels less like a trap now and more like fuel to keep him moving forward. maybe finally discovering he had power just to eventually lose it was what got him here— he can appreciate a life of normalcy now when he’s not constantly on edge, afraid that what he’s capable of will only destroy those around him— and when he doesn’t feel so invisible, so out of touch with reality, isolated despite being around people. it’s like he has a real community now, customers who have become friends and partners he can’t seem to keep around, but at least he’s trying, and that’s more than he could say for himself the last time he was on his own.
there’s a look of pride that washes over his features now, his smile widening— genuine, not as shy, not as much as it used to be. ❝ well, thanks. it’s the best job i’ve ever had. ❞ because nannying harlan always felt like less of a job and more like something familial, and even though he still longs for that, he’s come to accept that that part of his life is over. and while he liked music himself, being a performer sometimes threatened to fill him with more doubt than even his own father did. and he can hardly count author as one of his careers— not when his writing was a chance to unleash his rage before it suffocated him ( as if it didn’t inevitably threaten to take the world with him. ) he nods to the stage, then back to him. ❝ we added it when i first took over. i liked the idea of having music playing. i’ve always liked listening to live music. felt like it would make this place even better. ❞ and he can confirm now that he was right for that. ❝ brings people like you in, too. so— you know. that’s a plus, ❞ he adds, this time a bit more shy. ❝ how long are you in town, anyway? ❞
You’re very dangerous, Viktor Hargreeves. The decisions you make impact the entire world. So no matter how benevolent they may seem, you don’t get to make them alone.
THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY 1x09 “Changes” | 3x07 “Auf Wiedersehen”
@lingeringscars said, "i never had any idea what i wanted to do."
there's a small hint of a smile at the corner of his lips at the resonation he feels. logan isn't alone, and apparently, viktor isn't, either. he's always had a hard time understanding that: not everyone knows exactly what they want to do, and definitely not what they're supposed to do, either. so much of his life, he just felt lost, like he'd never figure it out. he stuck with what he knew, attempting to build a life out of a childhood hobby that he never really knew if he had any genuine passion for, or if it was just what he'd grown comfortable with, nothing more. it seems that's all it was, at least until it turned into something violent, and he'd been unable to look back since.
❝ admitting that means you're one step closer than i was when i was your age, ❞ he points out, because he made assumptions and only found himself more lost in the process. ❝ it's never too late to figure it out. i used to think it was, but— ❞ he shrugs his shoulders, thinking about how much has changed, how much he's learned about himself in such a short period of time. ❝ it's not. you're going to figure it out someday. and then you might change your mind, too. i don't think there's anything wrong with that. even if it feels like it sometimes. ❞
❝ hey, ❞ the greeting comes out hesitantly, because from what he's gathered so far, @manslaught isn't in a good mood, and the last thing he wants is to set her off more. ❝ do you need to take the day off? ❞ but he's in high alert of his own words, realizing that this could sound like a punishment or an accusation, and that's not what he means for it to be. ❝ it's cool if you need to. especially if someone's bothering you. ❞ most of his regulars are fine, understanding enough to know not to to pester her, but he's aware that the occasional walk in isn't as friendly. with a quick glance around his bar, he's still uncertain, eyes looking over her for a moment before he goes on. ❝ did someone say something? i can get rid of them. ❞
@7iktor. . . 𝚅𝙸𝙺𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚂.
❛ i wish i knew how to talk about it. ❜
the silence breaks as only the seventh could break it : short and sweet. he almost expected more, after so long, as if time had swallowed up the familiar cadence of this brother beside him already ; more volume, more noise, but the bar is quiet this time of day, daylight drifting dots past the windows that don't quite reach viktor. or maybe it's exactly what he expected, just less. . . solid. now, still, five is used to ; viktor used to inhabit an almost dear in headlights - like stocism that was likely medically induced in hindsight, but brittle. like a breeze would just blow him away.
but there viktor sits, body planted heavy in the booth, eyes unflinching, unthreatening. unthreatened. still viktor, just. . . more viktor. “ there aren't words for some things, ” he answers, careful, gaze subtle and searching. a wince, maybe. five may have helped kick them all to the space - time continuum curb more - so than the others, but every one of them left of their own accord. old habits. five doesn't know much, but he knows viktor wasn't exactly keen on visits, at least one - way. although, five wasn't so keen as to pay viktor a visit himself until now, was he ? “ i'm sorry i haven't really given you the opportunity to until now. ” words were more viktor's forte. you could fill a book with words five couldn't say. i know you were about to accidentally end the world, but i'm really sorry about that time i threatened to kill you and also ruined your life ? and that other time i threatened to kill you and ruined your life— what was it, three times ? riveting.
viktor’s fingers tap against the glass as he stares down at his drink, gently swirling it every now and then as he thinks it over. five says something along the lines of what viktor repeated often in his therapy sessions many years ago: how do i put my pain into words, when there’s never been space for it before? that’s exactly how his book came about— he couldn’t unleash it all to a therapist, not sitting there right in front of them, hanging on to his every word, the only person who had given him that kind of proper attention in so long that it felt overwhelming and almost fake. it was easier to write it all down, put it into words when no eyes were peering back at him, expecting something from him, because typically, no one expected anything from him.
he wants to believe he's gotten better at that over the years, that he can explain himself and what he’s feeling and make space for himself in ways he couldn’t before. maybe it’s in his newfound (still building) confidence, or in his journey through his own self-identity that he feels he’s finally grasped, or even just in connecting with his family again, despite the distance he keeps between them now— but it’s like world’s colliding, this new one he’s crafting for himself mixed with his brother who he feels like he knows completely yet not even a little, all at the same time, because he’s not the same kid viktor sought out for sanctuary when they were kids — he’s a stranger. without the world’s impending end, it’s finally time to really see that, to try to get something back.
he’d like to find his way back to brothers. maybe even friends.
he finally gazes back up to five, staring blankly for a moment before his shoulders shrug. ❝ guess not, ❞ he says quietly before going on. ❝ i needed some time. away—- ❞ he says, trailing off, the rest obvious: from everyone. for the first time in his life, he feels like he actually has the option of reaching out to his family, and maybe that’s what makes it easier to keep his distance, knowing that they’re there when and if he’s ready. ❝ i’m glad you’re here now, ❞ he lands on, because at least for once in his life, he’s actually built something he could be proud of, and with a quick glance around his bar, he starts to just barely smile. ❝ guess this is where i say the drinks are on me, ❞ he adds, his attempt at a joke, his smile growing for a moment. ❝ have you seen the others? ❞ he says, because for some reason, that feels like a safer place to start than asking about him directly.
✨🥰🌸
You and your father. Both so headstrong.
